


drawn to a light nobody else saw

by feralphoenix



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Fluff, Other, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-10
Updated: 2016-04-10
Packaged: 2018-06-01 10:57:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6515524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feralphoenix/pseuds/feralphoenix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chara and Asriel: on nomenclature, on wishing selfishly, on first crushes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	drawn to a light nobody else saw

**Author's Note:**

> _(want to pet every monster_ – a wandering soul with no [compass](http://marchenwings.tumblr.com/post/142079611004/) north)
> 
> warning for discussion of deadnames (but no actual deadnaming).

It’s just an ordinary day like any other when it happens.

You’re writing in your notebook and Chara’s doodling in their sketchbook, and you’re thinking again about how best to persuade them to do some illustrations for your stories, because their drawings are _good_ but you don’t think they like your stories all that much—because you like the Absolute God of Hyperdeath to be invincible and for everything to wrap up nicely at the end like a picture book, but Chara likes grown-up books with no pictures and bittersweet endings because they don’t believe that happy endings are possible in real life. (They’re _wrong,_ and gosh darn do you like Chara but fixing all their bad opinions is always such hard work.)

It would be easy if you had some chocolate left in your candy stash, but actually you weren’t thinking about needing to charm Chara into listening to you, so you already ate all yours. The only thing you have left are jelly beans, and lots of them are licorice flavored—you save them for last because they’re the best, and you know that if Chara somehow finds your stash they won’t eat them, because Chara is dumb and thinks that only licorice should ever taste like licorice. _Whatever._ More for you.

But that means that you’ve got to come up with some other way to get leverage just to make _sure_ they won’t laugh at you or turn you down. How do you impress them enough to ask for _anything_ and get them to not refuse? You could save them dramatically, you suppose, or _convince_ them that you’ve saved them dramatically, but they’re used enough to monsters now that they don’t jump and tremble at the sight of new bullet patterns, and they’ve already memorized the short way through all the puzzles. Heck. This could be pretty hard.

(You rest your chin in your hands and daydream about rescuing Chara anyway, catching them when they slip on the jump puzzle through Hotland, or—no, even better, pulling them up if they fall and are clinging to the edge for dear life. They’ll be shaken up and cling to you and cry, soft and fragile the way they go sometimes when they’re scared or have bad dreams, and you can hold them and cuddle them even surrounded by hundreds of monsters who’ve flocked to admire your heroism. And then when you get home they’ll be like _Oh Asriel thank you so much for saving me there couldn’t possibly be anything I could do for you in return_ and you can be like, _Well, actually!_ all nonchalant, and…)

(Maybe that’s a little silly. If it ever happened in real life you’d probably wait a little longer than _right_ after you get home, probably, you think.)

Anyway, you’re zoning out and Chara holds an impatient hand out at you and says, “Ree, pass me the pencil box.”

“Okay,” you say on automatic, grabbing it and putting it in their soft naked human palm. Their fingertips brush your pads and your heart does this weird flippy thing in your chest like it’s trying to dance and fell over on accident instead. You try not to show it on your face, because you know you’re being weird.

Then what they said finally processes, and you frown, looking up.

“Chara, did you just… what did you just call me?”

They tilt their chin up to stare at you, blank, for just a moment—and then their whole face goes _soooooo red_ and they make some squeaky abortive noise, eyes round with panic, hands clenched tight around their colored pencils.

“Chara—”

“BYE,” they shout, and then they bolt, scattering paper and pencils all over the floor as they abscond from your bedroom.

 

 

It takes you hours to find them. You look everywhere—Dad’s garden, all their usual hideouts in Waterfall, even the bar where the dogs like to play cards in Snowdin. Nothing doing; Chara has well and truly stolen away from you this time. You’re close enough anyway, so you head sullenly for the secret door to the old capital, what to you is still Home even though some people are already calling it the Ruins. You _like_ the old crumbly pillars and the cracked brick of the city. Even if only Froggits and Whimsuns and shy set-in-their-ways monsters still live here.

You trudge through old puzzles to give yourself time to sulk, and then you hear somebody sniffle, the sound loud and echo-y through the cave walls. Your heart turns over and you run towards it.

Chara’s sitting in the grass underneath the hole they fell through, throwing rocks at the walls. You remember hearing them scream for somebody, anybody, back before you’d even really met them—you remember them lying on their face with their foot bent in a funny direction, and your stomach kind of twists guiltily. It’s—it’s probably mean to imagine putting Chara in a position like that again just so you can look cool in front of them or make them do you favors.

“Howdy,” you announce yourself, quiet as you can. The acoustics of the cave carry your voice to them anyway. Chara’s shoulders stiffen, but they don’t flee again, so you sit down next to them.

They throw another rock. They’re still red-faced, and there are wet tear tracks on their cheeks.

“I’m not mad,” you say. “I was just kinda—surprised. ‘Cause I’ve never had a nickname before.”

Chara throws yet another rock. This one doesn’t even make it to the cave wall. They groan and bury their face in their knees. “I’m sorry,” they say. “It’s stupid.”

“It’s not,” you insist. “I like it. It’s cute.”

“It’s _stupid,”_ they argue fiercely. “I didn’t even ask for permission. It’s weird and creepy and dumb.”

You scoot a little closer to their side. “I don’t think so,” you tell them. “I told you, I like it a lot.” You think of your options for a while, then lean your head on their shoulder. “How’d you get the idea to give me a nickname?”

“Because,” Chara says hoarsely. A long silence. “Because—because your mom and dad have special names they call each other, and. It’s nice. Wanted to have that too.”

It _is_ nice, now that you think of it. Like belonging to each other.

You think you sort of want to kiss Chara.

“Call me it again,” you demand instead.

They breathe in. Breathe out. You think for a minute they’re going to tell you to stuff it but instead—in a tiny, shy, terrified-but-hopeful voice, they say, “Ree.”

You think you really do sort of want to kiss Chara. Not even _sort of_ -sort of. Sort of like for real except you don’t want to admit it. And not even, like, on the forehead the way you do when they’re upset and hiding in your arms. You sort of kind of maybe (definitely) want to kiss them on the mouth.

But that’s weird and gross and they’d probably definitely maybe hate it, so you wrap your arms around them and nuzzle their cheek instead.

“I like it,” you tell them. “You can call me it as much as you want.”

They swallow. You’re so close you can feel their throat move. “Okay.”

A thought occurs to you. “Can I give _you_ a nickname?”

Chara laughs just a little, like a wheeze. “I don’t think you can make anything nice out of my name, like Tori or Gorey or—or Ree I guess.”

“I bet you can,” you say, but then you think about it and actually they’re kind of right. “How about… Char?” you ask anyway, because you don’t want to admit defeat so easily.

Chara snorts. “I can’t say I really _Char_ for it.”

You groan. “Okay, okay, we’ll think of something else.”

They make a face. “I don’t really want a nickname.”

You frown at them. You thought that was just part of the package—that you’d make up special names for _each other_ that nobody else would get to use. As proof that you really do belong to each other. That Chara is yours.

“Well, gosh,” you say. “How come?”

_“Because,”_ Chara replies, suddenly waspish. “It’s good enough that you were the first person to ever call me my real name.”

“Oh,” you say, mollified. Then you frown again. “How can I be the first person who ever called you by your real name? What did people call you if they didn’t use your name?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Chara says.

“Aw, c’mon,” you wheedle, and bump your forehead to their shoulder. “I’m curious! What did they call you?”

They shudder, just a little. “I’m not telling you!” they insist. “I never want to hear it again. I don’t want _you_ to call me it, most of all.”

You pout. “Don’t you trust me?”

They move their shoulders defensively, and it occurs to you that if they had hackles they’d probably be raising them. “I—don’t want you getting tempted. Listen, Ree. It’s imperative that you never— _ever—_ know. I want you of all people to only know me as Chara.”

That’s still proof that you’re special to them, isn’t it? So you choose to back down, at least for now, no matter how much you want to know. “Okay,” you tell them. “I get it.”

They turn to you as if they’re going to say something, but then their stomach lets out an _enormous_ growl, and they shut their mouth, blushing again.

You giggle. “C’mon, let’s go home,” you say, standing up and offering them a hand. “I’ll persuade Mom to make chocolate pie for dessert if you draw me some pictures for my story.”

Chara gives you a _Look,_ and you worry briefly that you ruined everything by asking them for a favor after all, but then they just roll their eyes and wipe their nose on their sleeve and take your hand. “I guess,” they say. “If I _like_ the story.”

“I’ll sell you on happy endings sooner or later, Chara,” you say, and stick your tongue out. “Just you watch.”

They look surprised for a moment, and then they grin at you—narrowing their eyes and smiling thin and wide. Your heart turns over in your chest—they are _so_ cute. You need to stop being weird. You think you maybe need a grown-up. “I’ll believe it when you manage to actually do it, Ree.”

With titanic effort, you manage to _not_ tackle Chara into the grass and nuzzle their face, and pull them to their feet instead. They weave their fingers through yours and squeeze your hand. You squeeze back, your face heating up.

And you walk back home the long way, shoulder to shoulder, hand in hand, you and them.


End file.
